


Creative Interpretation

by 425599167



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Jessica Jones (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-27
Updated: 2016-03-25
Packaged: 2018-05-03 03:31:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 16,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5274884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/425599167/pseuds/425599167
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Deadpool is hired by the men Kilgrave cheated out of over a million dollars to hunt down and apprehend him, running into Jessica and her allies in the process.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Promise Not To Mix it With My PB&J

"Five million for him dead, ten million for him delivered alive with his tongue cut out."

The client's head was covered in bandages. Looked like he'd been repeatedly beaten with a large, blunt object.

Or he'd been beating his head _against_ something large and blunt.

_This isn't right. A game that high stakes should have had security. How could he have done that much damage and made off with the cash?_

**Yeah, this isn't some normal cheater getting what he deserves. This guy must really hate Murdercorpse.**

_It's Kilgrave._

**What kind of a name is "Killgrave"?**

_There's only one "L". And we're hardly in a position to go around criticizing overly blunt names. But it's a good job. Now all that's left is to suggest a bonus, then seal the deal._

"I can bring him back without a lower jaw for fifteen. Sixteen for him, along with the jaw in a little plastic baggy!"

The paunchy businessman leaned back in his chair, contemplating the offer while stroking his beard, before leaning back across his desk and extending his hand agreeably.

"You got yourself a deal, Mr. Wilson."

Deadpool enthusiastically shook on it. "So, what's so special about one prick cheating at cards? And why do you want me to make sure he's quiet? Does he make lots of bad jokes? I know how annoying people like _that_ can get, let me tell you, there was this one time in Budapest with these two secret agents, they would _not stop_ making lame puns about birds and spiders."

The man's face got a whole lot grimmer, in spite of Deadpool's delightfully charming efforts to lighten the mood. "This guy, there's something weird about his voice. I had my people do some digging. Rumors of him are all over the city. They say he can make you do whatever he wants just by talking to you. And in my experience, it's no exaggeration."

"Well, he'll be in for a surprise. _I_ can't even get me do what I want, what hope does he have?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little idea I had. Time will tell if it goes anywhere.


	2. Flexible Priorities

_Kilgrave, Kilgrave, where are you...if we had suddenly obtained $1.2 million, what would we conspicuously and traceably spend it on?_

**Guns, bombs, more guns, bigger bombs.**

_Not likely, if his mind control schtick is anything to go by. He's no fighter._

Deadpool was following every lead the internet had to offer. He searched for Kilgrave in general first, and found information on the new "support group" of people he'd wronged. Organized by the law firm Hogarth, Chao, and Benowitz to aid the case of Hope Schlotmann, claiming she was one such victim. There were dozens of articles on her. A young, promising woman who'd disappeared until her parents hired PI Jessica Jones to find her, who then brought her back to her office, where she then gunned them both down as they were leaving. Pretty open and shut case.

But he kept following the trail.

Jessica Jones.

**Her name is catchy and alliterative. She must be important.**

He found Jones' current office address, some testimony from clients, a gaudy, unfinished website with a phone number. 

And an article about how some child star's family had graciously adopted the poor orphaned girl, including some lovely photos of Jessica's old neighborhood and newly deserted home. With a visible house number and street sign. Well, a blurry street sign. That took a few guesses.

**Balm and Hutchens. Bald and Humming. Butch and Humid.**

_Birch and Higgins. Found it._

Some salaryman had posted on Facebook about how he and his family had recently moved out of the place.

Yesterday.

With no record of any contact with realtors, or indication they'd been packing for more than one day.

_Suspicious._

An hour later he was taking a drive through Jones' neighborhood, incognito. Well, as incognito as you can be when your face is a constantly shifting mass of scabs and decaying skin, but in casual clothes, a hood, scarf, and sunglasses. Not clad in red and black, driving a tank through the suburbs.

**That comes later.**

Her house had definitely been bought, dozens of people surrounding it, moving items in and out. He stopped a little down the block, and did another search on the moving company, but couldn't find anything useful. There was no "sold" sign out front. It had been bought, cleared out, and refurnished in under forty-eight hours.

Then he saw his purple-suited target step out onto the lawn, shouting at the workers in a fake-sounding British accent.

"Help bring in the new furniture! _Carefully!_ If everything isn't perfect, you will nail your feet to the floor while mopping up the blood."

Everything else around Deadpool seemed to come to a halt.

**You heard him.**

**Go and help.**

Deadpool unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the car door.

_You'd only make things worse. You can help by staying here._

He closed the door.

_Better yet, you can help by leaving. Get away._

He started the car, and drove away.

His neurons were firing, working out the command in a matter of minutes.

"What the fuck was that."

**That was weird. Even for us.**

_Well, there you have it._

_We know where he is. We just need to be prepared next time._

 

* * *

  

Twenty hours later, he was back, armed with flash-bangs, tranquilizer guns, a regular gun, and a lovely assortment of knives.

But he wasn't alone. Another guy dressed in black was watching the house, and looked ready to make his move, preparing to scale the side to a small window.

**Hey, we got dibs on this house, pal!**

Deadpool ran up behind him on his tip-toes, not making a sound.

"Hi, I'm Deadpool. Nice to meet you."

"Wha-"

The blonde guy didn't have time to defend himself before he had three darts in his neck.

Deadpool rummaged through the guy's pockets, looking for anything useful that would tell him why he was there. No ID, no insignia, no exotic weapons. Only twelve bucks in cash, which he pocketed.

And there were some odd, red pills. He had no idea what anything on the label meant, other than they were a stimulant.

He took them too, then tranqed the black suited psycho a few more times to be on the safe side, stuffed his limp body behind the hedges, and made his way into the house from.

The merc cautiously walked down the hall to the door at the end. That was probably the main bedroom where the mark was probably sleeping. Probably. No signs of anyone else awake in the house, either.

As he walked further, the door to his right flew open, and he was grabbed by the arm and thrown onto the room's bed with a muffled thud.

The lights remained off, but from the light coming through the window, he got a decent look at the assailant. Woman, medium height, thin build, black hair, really pale, and looking really,  _REALLY_ angry at him.

"We just met, should you really be taking me to your bed this soon?"

His new friend was unamused. "Who the hell are you?"

**Door to door gun salesman. Jewel thief. Avenger.**

_Tell her the truth. It's way cooler than anything you can come up with._

"I'm Santa, as the red suit and breaking into you home at night should indicate. Is there a little Susie in the house? I have a lego set here for her that is _waaaaay_ overdue. What is it, September? Good little kids shouldn't have to wait for toys. Wait, oh no, are _you_ little Susie? How long has it been? What year is it?!"

She socked him in the face to shut him up, and it  _hurt_. He'd noticed how easily she'd thrown him, but now it was definite. She was superhuman, and quite a bit stronger than he was.

He felt his nose pop back into place under his mask. "Sheesh, lighten up." He extended his hand to her. "The name's Deadpool. Nice to meet you."

The woman adopted a thin, false smile, but refused to shake his hand. "Hi, Deadpool!  _Get out._ "

**She seems nice. I like her.**

_But she doesn't like you. Respect her boundaries._

"...Okay. I'll leave." He said despondently, nodding. She was confused for a second, then went back to distrustful as she watched him meekly stand up, walk out the door, then try to bolt down the hall.

She grabbed the back of his bandolier before he could get two feet, then carried him over her shoulder back to the bed.

"If you keep making noise, Kilgrave will wake up, start talking, and take control. You _really_ don't want him to do that, now _get out_."

_Told you it was only one L._

**And I told you the less they change things from the comics, the better. As far as I'm concerned, he's the Purple Man.**

"Not happening, and I don't think you'll hurt me any more than you have to. Don't worry, whatever happens, you don't need to be afraid of me."

"I'm not. Why are you here?"

"To capture Kilgrave. Some powerful people are mad at your boyfr-"

She punched him again in the throat.

**Touchy.**

_Quiet._

After a second of suppressed coughing, he was back to normal. "I'm sorry. I knew he was a prick. Shouldn't have said that."

She studied him intently, but didn't look like she was about to beat him again. "He'll kill you."

"A lot of people have tried. It never works."

"He'll make you kill yourself."

"That never works, either."

That gave her another moment of pause. He thought about calling it quits for the night and trying again after doing some proper recon, see who else was living here, but the night was young, and she seemed interesting. 

"What's your name?"

"Jessica Jones."

_Of course it is._

"Well Jessica, I can tell you must be a very kind person to worry about the life of a total stranger like this-" She rolled her eyes at that totally sincere compliment, "-but I'm not too afraid of people controlling my mind. I don't have much of one left."

The woman shoved him back down onto the bed as quietly as she could.

"Listen to me you demented freak, the guy you're trying to capture has been terrorizing people for years. You heard of Hope Schlotmann on the news? He kidnapped her, raped her, and forced her to gun down her own parents, a crime for which she is currently awaiting trial and will likely face life in prison for."

He took a moment to think on it all.

_Well, that changes...absolutely nothing about what we're going to do. Other than wanting to do it slower._

**I've got the ziplock bag big enough for his jaw. And his balls, if we really cram them in. Serrated knife?**

_SERRATED KNIFE._

"You aren't exactly making me _not_ want to nab & stab him."

"If he disappears, that young woman will spend the rest of her life in prison for what he made her do. We need proof of what he can do to show that she was innocent. No one will believe her otherwise."

Deadpool set his chin in his hands, pondering the situation. "There's a tower in the middle of New York where a god from another dimension and a couple of super-geniuses incorporated a cosmic source of power into an android built to help them fight an army of killer robots. The same tower which was the focal point of an alien invasion a few years before that."

Jessica, paced back and forth, increasingly agitated, obviously frustrated by the disbelief, too. "But that had solid evidence. And it's not _mind control._ "

_Well, shit, she's kinda right. What should we do now?_

**Befriend and help the nice lady.**  

He leaned back confidently. "I'm willing to put off fulfilling my contract and helping you get that evidence, in exchange for something special."

"And what would _that_ be?"

"Lunch with me." He smiled as wide as he could, hoping she could make it out through the mask. "Not a date, or anything, just some time to work out a plan, and agreement. You could use my help"

"It's three in the morning."

"And yet somehow you already smell like booze. How much does scheduling really matter to you? o, I'm thinkin'...Mexican. My treat."

Jessica actually appeared a bit swayed by the offer. It looked like she'd been avoiding eating. "I can't leave. He'll hurt people if I do."

_He'll hurt people. Not her. People._

_Huh._

"That's too bad. If you get the chance, or want to talk, here's my number." He started scribbling on a piece of scrap paper, hoping the numbers would be legible in the light.

With that, he stood up normally, slowly walked down the hall, waved goodbye, and climbed out the window.

**We could have taken her. We had the tranqs.**

_Probably, but we shouldn't, and we couldn't do it without waking Kilgrave up and causing trouble. This'll work out better in the long run, I'm sure of it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I gotta say, I am really enjoying writing this fic, as if posting two chapters within hours of each other wasn't indication enough. 
> 
> Leave comments to let me know what you think!


	3. Let's Do Lunch

Deadpool was passed out in the back of his rent-a-car when his phone's ringing woke him up.

An unknown number was calling, but with a newly familiar voice.

"I've decided to take you up on your offer. Your treat, right?"

 

* * *

 

He headed down the hall to Jones' office, a bag full of chimichangas in hand and a lot of clothing covering his head. He didn't see her in the front room, so he knocked, watching a piece of glass get dislodged and fall from the broken window, embedding itself in his foot. He yanked it out, and carefully put the blood-covered shard back into place.

**Good as new.**

"Who are you?" said a voice from behind him. Deadpool spun around to see a cute young man with some very impressive hair eyeing him suspiciously. "Do you know Jessica?"

"I met her recently. She attacked me in the dead of night and repeatedly bludgeoned me with little provocation, hence the covered face. The bruises look awful. I feel absolutely terrible about it, and came to apologize for hurting her fist. Are you a friend of hers?" 

Before the other resident could respond, the damaged door swung open, revealing the private investigator.

"I've got this, Malcolm." Her neighbor nodded, and walked back to his apartment. "I don't have much time. Kilgrave will get suspicious if I'm out too long, and I need to talk to Trish after this."

He raised the take-out bag. "I brought food."

Her eyes flickered back and forth between him and the take-out until she snatched the bag, pulled out the four chimichangas, and took two of them  back to her desk for herself.

**She took our third chimichanga.**

_Let her have it. We can get more chimichangas when we're rich. This is important._

After scarfing down the first fried burrito, she finally talked to him. "Tell me exactly who you are, and what you want."

"Like I said before, I'm Deadpool. I'm a former spec-ops guy turned gun for hire. Like to think I'm a good one. Some rich people Kilgrave exploited hired me to track him down and make him less of a threat before delivering him to them so they can tear him apart personally. I've got  skills, and I want to help you."

"Not likely. You'd only get hurt. Spend the rest of your life mutilated and insane, like everyone else who crosses Kilgrave."

_Oh that is precious._

Bit by bit, he pulled off his "disguise", watching her horrified expression as he showed progressively more skin. Putting his elbow on the desk, he supported his head with his hand, distorting the constantly rotting and healing flesh of his cheeks into new patterns as she gaped.

"Jesus _fuck!_ "

"I don't know what your interest in Kilgrave is, Jessica, but there's _no way_ working with you can get me messed up any more than I already am."

"What the hell happened?"

"You've got super strength, I've got super healing. And so does my skin cancer. Half my body is constantly trying to kill the other half."

"Doesn't that hurt?"

"Every waking moment and most unconscious ones." 

_It's a good thing you're a masochist._

**(Suggestive cat noises)**

"And I thought I was nuts."

"Neither of us is crazy. What we've seen is real. Our reactions to it are as sensible as can be expected from anyone."

**Yeah!**

_We, the disembodied voices in your head, agree that you are both sane._

**And beautiful.**

"Kilgrave, on the other hand, is one demented bastard. Aren't we both glad we're not like him?"

Jessica glared at him, her surge of sympathy fading, but turned away after a second as she had trouble concentrating. It looked like she was somewhere else. She started mumbling "Birch street, Higgins road..." until reality came back to her.

"If you're trying to remember directions, I recommend coughing up the money for a GPS app. It's a real time-saver."

She glared at him again, somehow even more intensely than the last one.

He shrugged it off. "I try to find humor in situations. It's helped me deal with PTSD more than repetition and familiarity ever did."

"I'm dealing with it _fine_ ," she said while pulling out a bottle of cheap liquor to go along with what was left of her food.

"What, by reciting the streets you grew up on?"

She stopped pouring her drink and roughly set the bottle down. "How do you know that's what they are?"

"How do you think I found Kilgrave? Looked him up, found the support group, the law firm, the girl, then you, then the address, then Kilgrave playing with his Barbie's Super Stalker Dream House™."

"That's actually some good investigative work. About what I would have done, except the part why you move _towards_ Kilgrave instead of away." Downing her glass, she suddenly seemed more at ease around him. "You're not as dumb as you act, are you?"

**Oh, fuck, she's on to us. Abort. ABORT.**

"Heh, still pretty dumb, though!" he said through a mouthful of chimichanga.

Her expression didn't change, still studying him and thinking on every word he'd said to her.

_She's not buying it. Time to go full delusional._

"It'll all work out. How, exactly, depends on the writer."

She squinted at him doubtfully. "Um, 'the writer'?"

"This is a story, and not the best one I've been in. I mean, look as how the tones of our characters are clashing! My presence, not to mention behavior, is completely undercutting the grim seriousness of your arc. This is obviously fanfic, and frankly, Kamala has sent me better stuff than this to beta."

Jessica poured and downed another drink.

_Aaaaaannnnd she's back to thinking you're an idiot. Phew, thought someone might be taking you seriously. Realizing you're actually dangerous._

"Give up on this one. No one can resist Kilgrave's commands, least of all some moron like you."

"You'd be amazed how resistant my brain can be to following clear instructions. You know the saying that something is 'so easy an idiot could do it'? They're talking about _me_. And they're wrong!"

Jessica groaned. "You really want to help me. To help that girl."

"Well, I _really_ want to get paid for taking this guy in. Taking him was part of a job, but I can do that _and_ the right thing, if you'll give me a chance. How's this: you get your evidence to free Hope, I get Kilgrave."

Rapping her fingers on her desk, Jessica thought over the arrangement. "How much are you getting paid?"

**You said too much. Do we lie to her?**

_Hell no. I don't think she'd buy it. Besides, can't you tell how much one innocent life matters to her? She's a hero type, even if she won't admit it. She probably won't even accept the money at the end of this._

**She'll accept some of it. Hell, look at this place, I'd give her a decent percentage without haggling if she promises to move to less of a craphole.**

_Or at least fix the door._

"Sixteen million for him alive, with his jaw torn off his head."

The thought of that actually managed to put a smile on Jessica's face. Or maybe it was the eight-digit figure. "I want twelve million if we pull this off."

**_What!!!_ **

"Uh, heh, _no_ , that leaves me with less than if I brought back a corpse, and I can do that easy by sniping him. You can have five million, and that's pretty generous. You need help to save Hope Schlotmann, but I don't need help neutralizing Kilgrave."

Jessica nodded slowly, smiled grimly, and reached out to shake his hand. "Five million it is. Okay, 'partner', let's work out a plan."  


	4. AKA Headshot

 

As Jessica and Deadpool finished hashing out the final details and figuring out what they'd need, a pretty blonde woman walked through the busted door, clearly concerned and surprised but glad to see Jessica.

"Trish? How did you know I was here?"

"I _didn't_. You said you had left town!" She grabbed Jessica in a hug. "I was _so worried_ about you. Are you okay? Is something going on with Kilgrave?" 

_They seem...close._

**I ship it.**

After letting Jessica out of the hug, Trish finally noticed Deadpool sitting in the corner. "Who's this guy?"

"Trish, this is, ugh, 'Deadpool'. He's helping me expose Kilgrave."

Trish glance back and forth between the two of them, confused. "Okay...why?"

"He tried to break into the house last night. He was hired by some other people Kilgrave screwed over to capture him. Enemy of my enemy is my friend."

**Did she just say "friend"? We're friends now.**

"What 'house'. Where were you?"

Jessica turned away from Trish and went back to her bottle. "Kilgrave found my house, bought it, and redecorated it to look exactly like it did when I was a kid. He thinks it would be romantic, and that he can get me to...love him by having me stay there." She looked like she was about to vomit.

After taking a moment to go through various disgusted faces, Trish went back to worry. " _That's_ where you've been? Why didn't you contact me? You disappeared, but you'll go to some stranger instead of me? Why do you even trust him?"

"He came to capture Kilgrave, might have pulled it off if I hadn't stopped him, and backed off when I explained why I did."

"What makes him so special when you won't work with Will?"

**Talking about you like you're not even in the room. Rude.**

_But helpful for us. Don't interrupt._

"Trish, I-Deadpool, show her your face."

"You got it." He took off the hat and glasses and scarf until all his lovely tumors were exposed, and smiled cheerfully.

"Are you...all right?" asked Trish, trying hard not to show her revulsion.

_That's probably the most tactful and restrained phrasing of "What the fuck is wrong with your face?" I've ever heard._

**We should listen to her show. I bet she's a wonderful host.**

"Like she said, I was hired, there's a _lot_ of money involved, and I can help. I've got experience, powers, and lots of weapons."

Trish suddenly seemed excited. "You have superpowers? What kind? Jessica's got super strength and can jummm-" She zipped it when she saw the private investigator glaring at her.

**Give her the whole spiel.**

"Mostly super-healing, but I'm also stronger, faster, and tougher than most people. Y'know, things that make me tough to kill."

"That's awesome, but what if Kilgrave gets his hands on a trained killer?"

"That," said Deadpool, "is your friend's plan, whether she'll admit it or not. She wants need someone to sacrifice without guilt. Plus, an extra pair of hands for carrying him to that safehouse couldn't hurt." 

Trish threw up her hands, frustrated by the audacity of it all. " _That's_ your plan? Fighting Kilgrave by throwing a superhuman guy with an even crazier name at him?"

Jessica turned to Deadpool, trying to dodge the questions. "I've been meaning to ask about that. 'Deadpool'? Seriously? It's worse than 'Kilgrave'. What does it even mean?"

"It means that of those part of the project I was involved in, I wasn't one expected or intended to survive. But I sure showed them!"

_Then I showed them what their internal organs looked like._

"Another piece of the puzzle falls into place," remarked Jessica with her usual dryness.

"I still don't know where Will is, and I think Kilgrave got him. Please, stop trying to take him down. Do what you told me you'd done, get out of town until Kilgrave gets bored."

But Jessica ignored her, grabbing her coat and heading for the door. "Trish, we've got to go." She waved to Deadpool. "Come on, Kruger."

**Heard that one before.**

Before following Jessica, Deadpool turned to Trish to try and offer some help. "Don't worry about your friend. If anything bad happens, I'm the one who always gets mutilated. I can heal from anything, so it's funny that way. So, your friend 'Will' is missing, huh? I know how it is. You meet a guy, you think he's great, then you find out he emptied your bank account. I've seen it a dozen times. It's _happened_ to me a dozen times. If you ever find yourself in legal trouble, I know who you should talk to." 

He handed her a piece of paper with a note written in smeared guacamole:

 

_Nelson and Murdock: Avocados at Law._

  

* * *

 

**Why are we going out of our way to use nonlethal measures?**

_Because we want her to like us. Or at least not hate us. That's probably as good as we'll get with her._

**Hey, she said she was our friend. You were there. We all heard it.**

"Let me snipe them. I know we need Kilgrave alive, but who cares about killing the asshole thugs working for him?"

"We can't be sure they aren't being controlled by him. No one stays around that bastard because they want to."

"Even if they're not brainwashed, they're probably jerks."

" _No killing._ I'm not letting anyone else die because of Kilgrave."

_Why is she taking this so seriously? This is more than heroic duty._

"What did Kilgrave make you do?" She didn't even look at him, readying a needle full of surgical anesthetic, plus two backups. "If you want to swap stories, there's a lot of horror in my past."

She looked up from the syringes. "Someone controlled you? Made you follow every order you were given even though you were screaming inside your head?"

_Well, there is plenty of screaming going on in here._

"No. Everything awful I've done has been my own fault." Her disgusted expression told him to drop the subject. For now. "You got the drugs mixed into that Chinese food? You sure they'll like it? If they go for the noodles first, the whole plan falls apart."

She went back to her work. "Yes. Do you really need all those weapons?"

"Yup. Now get going." He'd been intermittently watching the house through his binoculars for ten minutes. "It looks like those 'servants' you're trying to knock out have been placed on one serious lookout duty. They're not blinking. Or maybe they're having a staring contest with the world. I do that sometimes. But their eyes can't heal like mine, so I don't think they'll win."

Jessica shot him one last glare before taking the bag and heading "home".

He drove the car up the block and kept an eye on everything through the binoculars. The plan seemed to be going well. She was dispensing the food, the two servants were eating it, Kilgrave letting his guard down, good, good...

In a minute, once she'd knocked out their target, he'd head out and back her up against his personal security.

Movement to the side of the house caught his eye. There were four, no, five men surrounding the house. He could hear suppressed gunshots, probably from them doing hisjob for him.

_Oh, shit, blondie's back. We forgot about him._

**What part of "dibs" do people not get!**

He heard furniture and glass shattering from inside the house.

Jessica had punched through the front window, dragging a cursing Kilgrave along with her onto the lawn, special ops guys running out to surround them as Jessica shielded Kilgrave. Deadpool got out of the van and started running to her.

**Don't worry, new best friend, I'll save you!**

"Anyone trying to attack us, STOP!"

Deadpool was out in the open and clearly heard the order, coming to a halt behind him and Jessica.

He checked out the soldiers, could see these guys were professionals, heavily armed, and well equipped.

_I can't move._

_But I can still distract people for Jessica to act._

"Hey, look at me! I'm wearing red on a stealth mission! At night! Isn't that weird?!"

Kilgrave turned around, but he was keeping his distance from Jessica, and had her within his line of sight. She couldn't get the anesthetic into his neck.

The purple man grinned. "Jessica, I see you brought a friend! Hideous outfit. Too much red. Who is this, some old acquaintance of yours back when you were wasting your time trying to be a hero?"

"Hey, red is a great color on me! Respect the differences. That purple suit is excellent, by the way." Kilgrave actually nodded at the compliment appreciatively.

"Shut up," said Jessica.

**Was she talking to us, or to Kilgrave?**

_Shut up._

"You. You're Deadpool." said the lead attacker.

_Damn, I'd hoped the tranquilizers would have knocked out his short-term memory._

"You know him?" asked Kilgrave.

"Let's get out of here! We don't know how many others there are. _We should go._ " demanded Jessica. Kilgrave clearly wasn't buying it.

The gunfire had drawn the attention of the entire neighborhood, people coming out of their homes to see what was happening.

Jessica screamed at them. "Everyone, get back inside! GET AWAY!"

"No, no, don't listen to her!" shouted Kilgrave cheerfully. "Be good neighbors, come gather round."

About a dozen people slowly approached the scene. 

Jessica confronted the lead soldier. "Simpson, what the hell are you doing? Why are you dressed like that? You _asshole_ , Trish is worried you were under Kilgrave's control! And now you are!  _Good fucking job!_ "

_So, that's Will. Small world._

Simpsons stared at her blankly. "You should have let me kill him. Everyone here is in danger now, because you wouldn't do it when you had the chance. Because you wouldn't let _me_ do it. Trish isn't safe because of you. But I'm gonna protect her."

**What the hell have we walked in on?**

_I think he's banging her friend. And she's jealous._

"Oh, you two know each other, too? Are all of you part of some little club, dedicated to taking me out?" asked Kilgrave, clearly interested and enjoying the drama.

"He's the cop you forced to try and kill Trish." answered Jessica.

"Is that right? So many cops, they all look the same to me after a while. But I didn't expect to see him again. What's your name?"

"Simpson."

_Who are these guys?_

"Hey," interrupted Deadpool, "What are the red pills you guys use? I don't know what exactly they do, but I'm pretty sure those things won't help me escape the Matrix."

Kilgrave looked at the merc, then back to Simpson, intrigued. "Answer him." 

"They're combat stimulants. Massively increase adrenaline production."

"Do you have any more on you?"

"Yes."

Kilgrave nodded casually. "Swallow every pill you have." The soldiers immediately obeyed, and Kilgrave pointed at Deadpool. "You all, kill him. Deadpool, don't fight back."

Deadpool tried to defend himself, but couldn't move the way he needed to.

"I can't get my weapons out." He looked at Jessica. "I swear, this never happens to me. I mean, really, I don't know how this is possible." She was less than amused.

In fact, she looked  _concerned._

**Welp, we're fucked.**

_Not quite. He doesn't know how fast it wears off on us. We only need to buy a few minutes._

Out the corner of his eye, he saw Jessica step towards him to, before Kilgrave pointed at her and shouted to the crowd. "If she tries to defend him, kill each other!"

Jessica stopped in her tracks. She was looking around, trying to find some out, but Deadpool knew she wouldn't try to save him. With the kids in that crowd, neither would he.

_No help there._

The soldier guys were all started to go ballistic as the pills kicked in. They pulled out their sidearms, but those stimulants were so intense they couldn't aim straight, fired wildly. 

Deadpool weaved between them and took cover behind one, and watched him shake with the impact of the bullets.

**What the hell are you doing? We can't disobey.**

_This is dodging, not fighting back._

Looking back, the crowd, Jessica, and Kilgrave were all watching the fight intently, Kilgrave in particular confused but interested enough by the spectacle not to give new commands. 

Deadpool held the corpse in front of him as a shield while he inched towards the car in the driveway to take cover.

There was nowhere else to hide, but he still couldn't get his gun out of its holster.

 _Not quite back in control._  

He took out most of the hidden blades he had on him, and threw them haphazardly in the air. Most of them landed harmlessly on the dirt and pavement, but one combat knife wound up embedded in one guy's skull.

**It's not technically a counterattack if you're killed by dumb luck, assholes.**

He stuck behind the car as his enemies reloaded, unsure what to do next.

But then there was one crucial detail he noticed about Simpson's equipment.

"Hey, buddy," he shouted at Simpson. "Kilgrave didn't tell you _not_ to use that detonator in your pouch. Whatever explosion it causes might just kill me."

Simpson stared are him, then grinned and reached for the device.

A second later, the shockwave knocked them both down and the Jones family home went up in flames. Everyone on the street was stunned for a moment, and Deadpool was engulfed in flames, burning his suit but not doing any damage he couldn't recover from.

**Are we good yet?**

_We're good. Hit 'em._

He stood up and whipped out a pair of tranquilizer pistols and let loose on the remaining soldiers. Those pills had made them practically rabid, but the amount of sedative in them was enough to remove them as threats.

All five of them were now dead or knocked out. He raised his gun to the mark, but before he could fire, Kilgrave spoke. 

"STOP RIGHT THERE! Do not fire, do not take one step from where you are standing!"

_Shit._

**Do you have a plan?**

_Just one: hope Jessica figured out we get over the Kilgraving really damn fast, and that she can stall until we can move again._

Kilgrave had already started ignoring him, and was throwing a tantrum, staring at the burning house. "NO NO _NO!_  Gah, I am  _so_ sorry about this, Jessica. People keep on coming between us. But I can fix it."

"Let it burn, you sick fuck. I'd rather it all turn to ash than share it with you." She slowly walked around Kilgrave, drawing his attention away from Deadpool. 

_I think she gets it._

"You show up in the city, threaten everyone I care about, and make bodies pile up around me. You pretend like being with you is my 'choice' while holding people hostage to make me stay. You act like everything is everyone else's responsibility, when it's all your own calculated actions that cause people to get hurt. And you try to make me to think it's _my fault!_ "

Kilgrave instantly dismissed her anger, slowly stepping towards her. It looked like he was expecting to give her a comforting hug, but she kept stepping back. "It's been a stressful evening, sweetheart, and you're not thinking clearly. I know where to get the blueprints of the house, I have records of every item in it. It can all be rebuilt. And I know that someday, you'll come to love me."

**Ew. **EEEEEEWWWWWWWW.****

_'Ew' is right._

"That's pretty gross, dude." said Deadpool.

"Quiet," said Kilgrave glancing at him out of the corner of his eye.

*You're the boss, you fucking shithead.* signed Deadpool.

Kilgrave didn't understand, only seeing it as bizarre hand motions. "What are you _doing?_ "

*American sign language. I have a deaf friend. Well, he used to be deaf, it's complicated and dumb and he looks like Jeremy Renner now.*

Kilgrave was facing him now, still unable to read the movements. "Right, I've had enough of you. Take your gun, the one actual with _bullets_ in it, and shoot yourself in the head."

**Shoot yourself in the head.**

"Why?" he asked his brain under his breath.

**You gotta.**

_Do it. I have an idea._

Deadpool raised his pistol to the side of his head.

He turned his torso ninety degrees, and fired. The bullet was blasted through both his eardrums, out the other side of his head, and into Kilgrave's shoulder.

_Good shot._

Kilgrave was on the ground, writhing in pain, mouthing words that Deadpool couldn't hear through the blood-gushing holes in his head.

Deadpool took out the biggest, ugliest knife he had left on him.

"What's that? I can't hear you, my ears are blown off! Did you say 'cut out my tongue'? I THINK YOU DID!"

But before he could tear the bastard a few new holes, Jessica stepped in front of him, and he remembered why they were doing this.

Kilgrave said something to her.

**What did he say? I can't read lips.**

_"I knew I could count on you to protect me, Jessica."_

She scowled, gripped his mouth shut, jammed a needle into his throat, and a minute later, they had his bleeding, limp body in the van.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time has told, this is definitely going somewhere. The story is writing itself. And damn, this thing is a lot more popular than I expected it would be, it already has more kudos than my Legend of Korra work.


	5. Quit Fucking Around

 Jessica and Deadpool had been sitting around at the cell for an hour, waiting for their captive to wake up.

The merc had been incessantly humming the _Mission Impossible_ theme the entire time.

After talking her ear off the whole drive.

And getting them lost.

Twice.

All this time, she was so damn close. She would put up with a lot of irritation.

But she wouldn't put up with being lied to. She was tired of the charade.

"Almost ready!" said Deadpool cheerfully. "Once he wakes up, we can record him in action. Then we're both rich! Door repairs and moderately priced whiskey beyond your wildest dreams!"

"And his victims will know he's faced justice."

"That too!"

Right now, she certainly wouldn't turn down some whiskey.

He doesn't actually care about helping Hope. It's not his priority, at least. Admittedly, she wanted the bounty on Kilgrave, too. It'd be stupid to turn down an opportunity like that, but she'd be fighting him even without money as incentive.

While working together, Deadpool had seemed to her like some heavily armed weirdo with an odd sense off humor. But as she thought about what he'd done, she got more and more suspicious. She'd noticed that there were pauses when he talked, yet she could tell he was moving his lips under his mask. As if he was talking to someone else. Then there were his tactics. Managing to weasel out of Kilgrave's hold like it was nothing. Misleading the enemy. Doing it all why looking like nothing more than a deranged nut.

And she'd had it.

Jessica grit her teeth. "You're not the idiot you pretend to be, are you?"

"What? Me?" He chuckled, as if _mocking_ the idea that a heavily armed professional mercenary was actually a threat. "Sometimes I get a lucky break. Today was one of those times."

"It usually takes Kilgrave's control twelve hours to wear off. You didn't even need twelve minutes. How?"

"Like I told you, I heal fast. That includes my brain. Whatever Kilgrave does, I can work it out of my system like bad tacos. Without my healing factor, I would have been dead, let's see," he leaned back in his chair, feet on the table, thinking, "fighting a robot shark controlled by the brain of an regular shark. Man, what a day." 

She stood up and took a few steps closer, fists clenched, and suddenly he was paying a _lot_ more attention to her. "Cut the bullshit comedy act. You're smarter than you let on. You were able to figure out how Kilgrave's control works and thought up ways to counter it on the fly. Despite being ordered not to fight back, you managed to kill two people. You've been trying to fish for information while pretending you're a moron, you ramped up the act when I called you on it before, and I bought it like an idiot anyway. Cut. The. _Bullshit!_ " She grabbed him by his chest, lifted him, and slammed him against the wall. He didn't fight back, going limp and raising his hands placatingly.

"Why are you so mad at me? Things went bad back there, but it wasn't my fault. And we won! I hardly ever win. Usually, everything explodes, I accomplish my goal on a technicality, and then I don't get paid anyway." He waved to the glass enclosure. "But we've got him. And only _some_ things exploded, not everything."

Jessica tried to ignore the burning of her house. She'd gotten over that years ago. Focus on the psycho clown. He was trying to avoid the questions. Like before.

"Why the act? Why are you trying so hard to get on my good side?"

"Sheesh, is people being nice to you _that strange_ a concept?" She upped the pressure on his chest. "You're, well, you're like me in some ways."

Jessica relented, hoping like hell there wasn't any truth in that statement.

While she mulled over whether to beat the hell out of him, he used his dangling legs to kick her in the knees, cut the clump of fabric she was gripping off with a hidden knife, and pushed off from the wall with his free hand while she was off-balance, knocking her to the ground.

She'd hit the back of her head in the fall. It reminded her of Trish showing off her Krav Maga, only without the exercise mat. 

"You may have super strength, but your can't rely on brute force over actual training. Do what I did: watch every Bruce Lee film simultaneously on a loop for three days straight. Taught me everything I know. HwaaaachaaaAAAah!" He posed proudly for a second with his arms up, punching imaginary enemies, then reached down to help her up.

She smacked his hand away, stumbling to her feet on her own, rubbing her aching head. And then pulled out a pistol once she'd stepped back a few more feet.

Deadpool looked less than scared, and she perfectly understood why. "You'd better have loaded something with more kick than regular bullets, or this isn't going to go the way you hope."

Jessica looked the merc up and down, noticing the damage to his outfit. A lot of the tears and burns had come from the explosion, but there were clearly bullet holes on his extremities.

He could tell what she was looking at. "I should have picked a different human shield. Spec ops guys aren't as ridiculously bulky as they used to be."

"Who's helping you do this?"

"What? I'm not working with anyone else. It takes a lot of willpower to put up with me for long, so props to you." He gave a little clap.

"I can tell you're mouth is moving, and I'm betting there's a hidden mic in that mask. Who are you talking to all the time?"

Deadpool froze, looking genuinely embarrassed for the first time. "...The voices in my head."

This guy couldn't be real.

But he just kept talking.

"Fighting is easier when everyone underestimates you, all right? And acting crazy is a good way to make them think you're weak. It also helps if you really are kinda crazy. Or a lot crazy. C'mon, Jessica, I'm not the bad guy. Well, usually. I try."

It made sense. As much sense as "act insane to no one can predict you" could. And everything _was_ going pretty smoothly. As smoothly as things could whenever Kilgrave got involved.

"Okay, okay." She holstered the gun, shuffling awkwardly before delivering a rather half-hearted apology. "Sorry for hitting you."

" _Please_. My skin feels like it's constantly being eaten by ants. Ants that have rabies. You didn't even hit my pain threshold." He slapped her on the shoulder encouragingly. "Besides, what's an ass-kicking between friends, huh? I've forgiven a lot worse from much meaner people." 

Meaner people than her. No wonder he put up with her threats. For her part, she'd never met someone as oddly cheery as him.

Her partner didn't seem to hold much of a grudge, spending the next few minutes double-checking the equipment, then sat back down and waited with her.

Deadpool rapped his fingers on the table impatiently, staring at the prisoner. "Maybe we _should_  tear him apart right now and get the money. Cut our losses."

"No. I need evidence of his abilities to keep Hope out of prison. And he needs to face justice for the people he's hurt." She knew how hollow it sounded, thinking about everything he'd done. Everyone who was dead.

"And what about the people who died tonight because of him, because we didn't blow his brain out? The people who _could_ have died. Those two soldiers, the personal security, all your lovely neighbors. Maybe your friend Will and the other two guys died. I left them next to a burning house with a whole lotta drugs in their system, I didn't check if they survived."

"No one else is going to die, _we have him_."

"I hope you're right. Otherwise, you're going to feel even more stupid than I act."

Jessica thought about all the people Kilgrave had hurt or killed in the time she'd spent hunting him. Trish was nearly killed, Simpson nearly killed himself, the brainwashed people she'd had to fight, Ruben. And then she remembered.

"Alva and...oh fuck, what was his name, the cook...Laurent. They were still inside the house when that bomb went off. I knocked them out, and they're dead."

"You didn't kill them. Kilgrave put them in that situation, Simpson put the bomb in the house, and I'm the one who told him to blow it. I had no idea what would happen, but still. It's not your fault."

Jessica buried her face in her hands. "I know."

"You _know_ it, but you don't _believe_ it. You shou-" He abruptly stopped, and pointed to the glass window. "We'll have to pick this up later." 

Kilgrave was standing there, watching them intently, and trying to shout something through the glass.

Jessica looked up and scowled, anger at that British bastard replacing self-loathing. "What does he want?"

"He's asking where to toilet is."

"How-"

"I can read lips."

Jessica gave a small smile as she watched Kilgrave slosh around in the water on the floor. "Well, take a good look while you can. I look forward to cutting his off."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first chapter from Jessica's POV. The more I wrote this one, the more I understood what made this a good idea in the first place: Wade and Jessica are amazing foils for each other. Both of them got their powers via being experimented on, and both suffered horrifyingly traumatic events because of them. But while Jessica is bitter and vindictive, Deadpool conceals his pain behind his bizarre sense of humor. Jessica reluctantly works to be a hero, often succeeding through reprehensible acts. Deadpool has a sketchier moral code to start with, but tries hard and usually fails when he actually wants to do good. 
> 
> I also thought it would be good to see how other someone else sees Deadpool when they aren't aware of Yellow Box and White Box, or in this case, Bold and Italics. A heavily armed, clearly insane man who talks to himself.


	6. Melt Your Insides

"You're sure you want to do this?" asked Jessica.

"Of course. It's not like we have a better plan. Now, all the weapons I've got capable of breaking out of that cell are gone, only some knives left, and-wait, hold on-"

Jessica watched in disgust as he pulled a mean-looking grenade out of... _somewhere_ and dropped it into a tray for safekeeping.

" _Now_ I don't have any weapons powerful enough. Just the knives."

"It's still a big risky. Kilgrave can weasel his way out of almost anything."

"In a worst case scenario, there's something I can use to take him out without moving."

She raised an eyebrow skeptically. "That 'something' being...what?" 

"I have a trump card I _really_ hate using, but I may need to whip it out here."

**NO. NOT THAT.**

_Don't you do it, don't you fucking dare._

"So, are you gonna tell me what it is?"

"You'll know it when you see it. But if you do, you have to _promise_ me you won't tell anyone about it. This is serious."

"What could possibly be-"

He grabbed her by the shoulders. "PROMISE!"

Jessica shoved him away before the word left his mouth. "I promise I won't tell anyone, fuck!" She showed him the setup for the chamber. "Once he starts trying to control you, I'll turn on the electricity, knock you both out."

"Don't use it. Whatever he's going to make me do to myself, I can take it. We've gotta make this convincing." He walked towards the hatch. "Oh, and make sure you get my good side. Not everyone can be as photogenic as you."

Her expression soured even more at the mention of pictures, though Deadpool wasn't entirely sure why.

"Just get in there. I want this over with."

Deadpool nodded, then stepped into the airlock as Jessica sealed the path behind him. He wouldn't get out without her input.

Her voice came though the concealed headphones to his ear. 

**Testing, testing, one, two, various other cliches. Do you here me?**

_Good thing she mentioned that hidden mic idea, or I'd never have thought of this._

"I hear you," he said, "Ready to take this guy down a peg? You're the one who knows which of his buttons to push."

**I'm ready. Be careful, even without controlling you, Kilgrave can get under your skin. I've never met anyone as infuriating.**

**Never? I'm insulted.**

Kilgrave stood at the other side of the cramped room, scanning the merc up and down. Then, he smiled apologetically.

"I'm sorry, I'm absolutely _terrible_ with names," he said with a shallow charm, offering his hand. "Who are you, again?"

The mercenary politely shook Kilgrave's hand. "Deadpool."

"'Deadpool'. Not exactly subtle, are you?"

**Oh, fuck this guy.**

"People in glass houses should not throw stones, _Kevin_. Unless they need to use the broken shards as improvised weapons, which is an actual tactic I've used more than once."

_Look at that face. He does NOT like being called Kevin._

That little nudge had put Kilgrave on the defensive. "Why are you helping _her?_ What did I ever do to you, huh? I've been beaten and kidnapped, how am I the bad guy here? You know my name, you must have seen the recordings."

"I've seen worse."

"Then _maybe_ you could show a little sympathy!"

Deadpool shook his head. "Wow. Jessica wasn't exaggerating about you at all, was she? As someone very wise once said: I've met a lot of pricks in my time, but you are a fucking cactus."

Kilgrave completely ditched the charm. "You're not better than me, you cold-blooded killer." 

Running his hands along his torso, Deadpool feigned outrage. "Excuse you, I am a sexy, hot-blooded killer. And you're an asshole with a fake British accent, and no idea who you're dealing with. You can't beat me. You may have unstoppable mind control powers, but there's one thing you didn't count on, and can't exploit."

His opponent sneered dismissively. "And what's that?"

"My ridiculous incompetence! Even if you can make me want to do something, you can't fix all the awfulness in my brain that keeps me from doing it!"

**Deadpool, get to the point. Make him mad, get him to control you. Get on his nerves, coerce him into making a move.**

Deadpool punched Kilgrave in the face, and watched him crumple like a paper cup to the floor.

**Or you could do that. I'm not complaining, but use _some_ subtlety.**

_The asshole doesn't know how to take a hit._

Looking down at Kilgrave's bruised face, Deadpool was filled with remorse. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Yes, you seem very choked up about _beating me!_ "

"I wasn't apologizing to you, I was apologizing to David Tennant's beautiful visage."

As Kilgrave struggled to figure out what the hell _that_ meant, Deadpool hoisted him up and slammed him to the wall, pressing down on his bandaged shoulder.

**Move him to the left. I need a better view.**

**For evidence, or for fun?**

_Just do it._

He dropped Kilgrave onto the bunk, watching him squirm in pain.

"What's the matter, Kevin? Not used to people hurting _you_ for a change."

"I never hurt anyone."

**Don't even bother responding to that, it won't get you anywhere. Don't insult what he does, insult _him_. He's a control freak. Make him feel powerless.**

Kilgrave struggled to stand, supporting himself on the Deadpool's shoulders. He whispered, trying to avoid being picked up by the microphones. And unaware of the one hidden in the merc's belt. "Deadpool, think about what power like mine can do. Anything you want, you can have. All you need to do is let me out."

"No. Nothing you can say can make this stop. Don't be stupid. You can't do anything to me, you know that." He knocked Kilgrave back down.

**That asshole's never had anyone say no to him in his life. Keep rejecting him, he'll get frustrated, like a spoiled brat.**

"You may be smarmy, raping shithead, but even I can figure out you're not dumb." He punched him again, giving the captive a moment to spit out his blood.

Jessica watched in silence. Deadpool couldn't see her reaction, but didn't want to look at her and risk Kilgrave picking up on the plan.

_Keep going, we're almost there._

**MORE PUNCHES!**

"You have to realize this is the end for you. No one knows you're here. No one wants to help you."

Each sentence was punctuated with another beating.

"No one _can_ help you. We're going to make sure you die after this. You've got a few days left, at most. _Now what're you gonna do about it!_ "

"STOP!"

Deadpool stopped mid-strike.

_Good, let him talk, this is what we need!_

Deadpool kept still as Kilgrave circled around him like a predator, pitiless, not paying any mind to Jessica or the recording devices.

"Take two of your knives out and stab yourself in both eyes."

A moment later, Deadpool was blind, struggling not to scream too loud through his clenched teeth. If he did, the microphones might miss what Kilgrave said.

**Oh my god, Deadpool! I'm turning on the electricity, get out of there if you can!**

Deadpool shook in a way that looked like a pained convulsion, hoping Jessica would interpret it as a negative.

He could feel the metal scraping against the inside of his skull.

**God, it's like nails on a chalkboard. If the chalkboard was the outer layer of your brain.**

_Endure it. This is gold. Besides, we've had worse._

He could hear Kilgrave moving around to stand in front of him, taking in the sight, and laughing heartily. "Good, good. Here's what you're going to do now. Pull those knives out of your head, slowly, then  _break out of here, and KILL JE-_ " 

The knives were blasted out of Deadpool's eye sockets as a bright red beam emerged and knocked Kilgrave back into the wall, then slumping down to the floor. He'd live. Probably.

_You son of a bitch. You actually did it._

**That was worse than the eye-gouging.**

Deadpool shambled around and felt his way out of the cell while his eyes healed, feet soaking, blood splattered across his face and chest. "We've got him."

Jessica stared at him, mouth agape, as he collapsed into the chair next to her. "You have laser eyes. Actual, fucking honest-to-god _laser eyes_."

"NO, Jessica, I don't have optic blasts. That would be as ridiculous as putting katana blades in my forearms, or sewing my mouth shut. Why would anyone think of something that stupid? I have lots of guns and a super healing factor. That's all. Now come on, we've got footage to edit."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Giving me the opportunity to write this chapter makes X-Men Origins: Wolverine a lot more palatable.


	7. This is What You Wanted, Right?

After getting bored of combing through different camera angles and recordings to gathered every last incriminating frame, Deadpool decided to take a nap while Jessica continued to rewatch every second, fuming all the while.

_Should we even be letting her do that? If her eyebrows get any more furrowed they'll pop right off her face._

**Heh heh, good, good, let the hate flow through you.**

_Yeah, fuck it, I need a break._

A short while later, he woke up to an older woman in black standing over him, looking rather repulsed.

"Jessica, who is this?"

Jessica waved disinterestedly at her accomplice. "Jeri, meet Deadpool. He's a mercenary hired to capture Kilgrave."

"You hired a  _mercenary_ _?_ Why didn't you tell me about this? It won't help Hope's case if we hire people to terrorize her abuser."

" _I_ didn't hire anyone, he showed up and started helping."

"What can he do?"

**Still talking about me like I'm not here.**

_Well, we do look pretty out of it, considering what happened. The knife eye attack isn't supposed to work like that._

"He can heal from really bad shit, and apparently has laser-" she glanced over at Deadpool, who was now alert and staring at her intently.

"-focus. Laser focus," she said dryly. " He's so focused. I've never seen anything like it. It's amazing."

Jeri clearly didn't believe the last part, but also didn't care that much. "And you _trust_ him with this?" she said, waving around the safehouse.

Deadpool finally got to his feet, waving to get the lawyer's attention. "Hey, I'm awake here. And I'm totally trustworthy. Never lied in my life."

**Because it's not lying if you're so delusion you think what you're saying is true.**

The lawyer was clearly not taking what was happening well. "You told me you had evidence. I show up, and you're working with a hired gun to kidnap a man. Now, _what do you have?_ "

"Take a look at the footage." said Jessica, pointing to the screen.

Jeri watched the session play out, probably thinking about all the laws being broken. Then, when it got to the part with the eye-gouging, she looked like she was about to puke. But she regained her composure soon enough. "This isn't going to cut it. People will claim it's staged."

"It'll cause doubt, Jeri."

"It's _not enough_."

Jessica hit a button, and Kilgrave's voice came through the speakers.

_"Deadpool, think about what power like mine can do. Anything you want, you can have. All you need to do is let me out."_

Reluctantly, Jeri nodded. "Better. But we still need a more reliable witness."

**Are you kidding me?**

"What more could you need?" asked Deadpool. "The guy made me stab out my own eyes! Even I wouldn't do something that stupid of my own free will!"

"It doesn't seem to have stuck," said Jeri, looking down on him dismissively. "You can still see."

"Like Jessica said, I have super-healing."

"What we _need_ is someone working in law enforcement."

"Like a detective?" asked Jessica, running through her options.

"Yes."

Jessica sprung out of her seat. "I'll be back."

But Jeri blocked her path. "Jessica, what about my divorce? What about _Wendy?_ "

"There's nothing on her! Have you ever considered not everyone is as big a bastard as you?"

"I think you mean _'like us'_."

Before Jessica could come up with a decent counter, Trish barged in, looking around at her friend, the battered mercenary, Jeri, and the still-unconsious Kilgrave.

"Hello, Deadpool. Jeri." she said, a bit nervously.

"Hi, Trish." said Deadpool, waving casually.

Jeri simply nodded quickly before pulling out her phone.

Trish turned to Jessica, ignoring the lawyer's rudeness. "Will called me up, and he's looking for you. He sounded hurt, and wouldn't tell me where he is. Mind filling me in on what happened?"

"Holy shit, he's alive?" said Deadpool.

_He's tougher than I'd give him credit for._

Trish head jerked back and forth between Jessica and the mercenary. " _What?_ Why wouldn't he be alive? What happened?" she stared at Jessica, terrified and noticing all the blood on Deadpool's suit.

"There was a fight at my old house. He was there with, with some of his friends from the military. It all went to hell as fast as you'd expect." 

**Complete with a blazing inferno!**

Jessica rubbed her eyes, trying to collect herself. "I'm sorry, Trish, but I need to get out of here," she said, grabbing her phone and heading to the exit.

"Where are you going? Jessica!" shouted Trish.

"I'm going to find Detective Clemmons, get him here, and he can see Kilgrave in action for himself!"

Trish was about to go after her, but Jeri grabbed her arm. "She's going to get the last piece of evidence we need to put Kilgrave away. Let her go."

"You three watch Kilgrave. Do not open that door!" yelled Jessica as she stormed towards the exit.

"Because he'll control us, or because he's an asshole?" called Deadpool after her.

"YES!" she shouted back in the second before the door slammed shut, leaving the others alone with the now-stirring Kilgrave.

**We're going in with Kilgrave again when she gets back, aren't we?**

_Yeah, probably._

**Fuck.**

The three of them all settled down, preparing to stand guard while Jessica went out to get more help.

"Is all that normal for her?" asked Deadpool.

Trish shuffled around, trying to come up with an explanation for her friend's behavior. Or maybe contemplating why she's her friend at all. "Jessica tends to avoid communicating with people so she can't get hurt or hurt them. It's her coping mechanism."

"Aren't there any better ones she could use?"

"Well, there are a lot, like suppression, or humility. Patience. Humor is also helpful to most people, but I don't think she has it in her."

Deadpool nodded attentively. "Humor. I see. This is good stuff. I should be taking notes."

Jeri looked up from her phone and stared dumbfounded as the mercenary started transcribing the advice. "Are-are you writing with a pair of scissors?"

 

* * *

 

An hour passed with Jeri trying to get work done on her phone, Deadpool regaling Trish with stories of his work, and Kilgrave watching them all from behind the glass, unable to make himself heard and no one particularly caring about what he did.

"Okay," said the talk show host, "I _might_ have believed the one about you fighting Dracula, but there's no way you nailed the personification of death. No way is the Grim Reaper that hot."

"First of all, there were like, five Draculas in that story, and second, don't talked about my main squeeze that way. Death is a babe."

**There were only three Draculas.**

_A little embellishment is the key to an interesting story._

"Damn it!" exclaimed Hogarth, pocketing her phone.

"Are you okay?" asked Deadpool, as he and Trish turned to the lawyer.

"No. I'm not."

"Do you want to talk about it?" asked Trish.

The lawyer glared at them, but eventually decided there wasn't anyone else to talk to or anything else to do in general.

"I'm in the middle of a divorce, my colleagues are trying to force me out of my firm, and instead of dealing with it, I'm stuck here, waiting for Jessica, who hasn't help me at all!"

Trish pulled up a third seat for their new conversation partner. "Why are you getting a divorce?"

"My wife learned I'd cheated on her."

After that, Trish wasn't looking particularly sympathetic. "Why did you cheat on her?"

Jeri glared at the blonde, unwilling to stomach even the smallest amount of blame. "I fell in love with someone else. And now she's trying to wring me dry, and I have no leverage, and I..." she and Kilgrave were staring intently at each other.

Deadpool walked into her line of sight. "Don't look at him. Don't even think about it. Trust me, it won't go well."

He heard the door to the building open, and Jessica walked in with a very reluctant looking detective Clemmons.

The detective jumped back at seeing the merc. Jeri and Trish had barely reacted, so Deadpool had forgotten he'd taken his tattered mask off after the laser eye incident.

_Oh, shit, Jessica deleted the footage of that, right?_

**We didn't check.**

Clemmons looked even more alarmed upon seeing Kilgrave, face bloodied, quietly staring at him like he'd been staring at everyone else since he woke up.

"What the hell are you all doing?" he shouted, staring at Jessica. "Alright, this is stopping right now-" he paused as he noticed Deadpool holding a gun in front of him, then removing the detective's own pistol.

With him now unarmed, Jessica forcefully sat him down at the table, and showed him the footage of Deadpool following Kilgrave's orders. Clemmons watched in horror and disgust as the footage played, looking around at the  _three_ superhumans he was stuck in a room with.

Trish was the only person showing him any concern. "Are you all right, detective?"

"Every day there are more and more 'gifted' people in the world, like Captain America, that green monster. And I have no ideal how to deal with them."

"Green monster?" said Deadpool, completely oblivious to Clemmons' despondence. "Uh, you mean _the Hulk?_ I know we're not allowed to say the m-word even with the wondertwins running around, but come on. Say it with me. 'Hulk'." 

_Shut up, you wanna get sued?_

Jessica was growing more and more impatient with each second. "You saw what he can do, you lived it, I showed you the video. You believe it. But _apparently_ "-she glared back at Jeri-"we need a first-hand witness." She snapped her fingers and pointed to the hatch. "Deadpool, get in there."

**I hate repeat performances. Why can't Hollywood come up with something new?**  

"All right, in I go. What should I-" several bullets entered his chest, knocking him to the floor, followed by a taser leaving him spasming wildly. He couldn't move, but he could hear.

"SIMPSON! What the hell are you doing?!" shouted Trish.

"Finishing him, dammit!" The drugged-up cop lumbered towards them, pulling out a gun and firing wildly into Kilgrave's cell, shattering the glass but missing his target as everyone else took cover. "My boys are dead, but you're still protecting him over one girl, instead of ending him when you had the chance!" 

**How did a guy that big sneak up on us?**

_Play dead and wait for him to get close. Dammit, I hope the battery for this thing runs out quick._

As Jessica tried to tackle Simpson, he shot her in the leg, forcing her to hopelessly crawl after him. 

But the distraction gave Kilgrave enough time to open his damn mouth.

"Stop!" he said, increasingly amused by his luck. "Why are you here?"

"YOU. ARE. GOING. TO PAY! For what you did to me!"

Kilgrave was unfazed, shrugging his shoulders in the face of Simpson's mad rage. "Who are you again?"

"Simpson," the attacker said, as he pulled the pins on several grenades stowed in his jacket.

**Kilgrave didn't tell him NOT to blow himself up, so that's what he's decided to do. That's the kind of crazy plan I'd think of!**

_We kind of did think of it._

"Step back!" yelled Kilgrave, and Simpson stopped dead and slowly walked backwards into the middle of the room. But the pins had already been pulled. Kilgrave cowered in the corner of his cell, Hogarth dashed to the exit, while Jessica, Trish, and Clemmons all tried to take cover. 

Deadpool got enough control back to grab Simpson's leg, pulling him to the ground on top of the explosives.

_This is gonna hurt._

The force and shrapnel of the explosions shredded half his body. And all of Simpson's.

_Yup, I was right._

Fortunately, it also blasted off the points the taser probes were attached to. 

Kilgrave stepped over the shattered glass, trying, not entirely successfully, to avoid getting shards stuck in his bare feet, then started charging to the exit, but not without noticing Deadpool's recovery.

"Deadpool! KILL THEM ALL!" he shouted back as the mercenary staggered to his feet.

**Well, go on, start shooting. It won't be hard, Jessica's the strongest person here, and even she isn't bulletproof.**

_Now, now, let's be logical about this. Kilgrave said "Kill them all", which could technically be taken as meaning kill everyone everywhere. A job that big demands prioritizing._

**I'm listening.**

_In order to set off the appropriate chain of events to kill everyone as fast as possible, I propose assassinating the president to incite global panic and maybe a few wars. We need to get to Washington DC, and the fastest way to do that is by plane._

**Okaaaayyyy...**

_We need money for a plane ticket. Kilgrave's suit looks expensive, we should swipe it off him, pawn it, and spend the money on a first class ticket. It's the only way to do what he wants._

**I'm in. Let's get him.**

He dashed after the British jerk and tackled him to the ground.

"Why are you doing this? I told you to kill them all!"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" asked Deadpool, trying to get Kilgrave's suit jacket off without tearing it. 

"Leave me alone!"

**He said to leave him alone.**

_No, he said "Leave me a loan". We need to get him to a bank, ASAP._

Deadpool hoisted Kilgrave up, putting a lot of force on the latter's bullet wound, and started carrying him. "Don't worry, pal, I'll help you get that small business off the ground. Just like we've always dreamed!"

"WHAT IS _WRONG_ WITH YOU?!"

_Put pressure on the shoulder. If he's screaming in agony, he can't think straight enough to give orders._

**Who cares about the shoulder? Anyway, what are the usual interest rates for New York banks? We need to plan out these investments, otherwise we'll spend our lives in debt!**

"Detective! Get him off of me!"

_Looks like he's given up trying to control us. He has no idea how I'm doing it, or the limitations._

_Good._

The elderly detective grabbed and pulled the still-regenerating Deadpool away from Kilgrave, while an injured Jessica limped past them both to grab her enemy, too strong to throw off even while recovering from the blast.

"Let go, Jessica!" screeched Kilgrave.

But she didn't.

**Huh _._ Thats, um. Huh.**

_My thoughts exactly._  

While Jessica herself was processing the new development, Kilgrave kicked her in her her leg's open bullet wound, the pain forcing her to let go as he ran out into the open, leaving the ruined prison and the ailing heroes behind.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here is what I mean by the title "Creative Interpretation". Deadpool may still be compelled to do what Kilgrave orders, but he can completely twist the meaning through pure madness so as to make his actions counter the intent of the instruction. And in case you're wondering, yes, Italics knows what they're doing. The way Kilgrave's control is described, Italics is the little part of you watching, knowing you don't want to obey, but in Deadpool's case, it's a lot more proactive.
> 
> I'm going to be taking a break from this story until late December. This is fun, but I want to complete the next chapter of my Legend of Korra story in time for the anniversary of the finale.
> 
> By the way, Google "knife eye attack" (but don't scroll down too far). I'm surprised there's no Deadpool fanart of that.
> 
> edit: [I have now made a Deadpool KNIFE EYE ATTACK](http://425599167.tumblr.com/post/134760046398/i-had-to-do-it)


	8. Let's Not Play the Blame Game

 Jessica sat outside Trish's room at the hospital, waiting and quietly fuming to herself as doctors and other patients walked around her.

Her concentration fell apart when Deadpool casually sat down next to her in one of to hallway's chairs. With the right application of bandages, and a stolen, very revealing hospital gown, he blended in well as a patient. Though the eyepatch and Scooby-Doo bandaids were a bit much.

"How is she?" he asked.

"Stable. Missing a lot of blood and with plenty of shrapnel in her chest because of me, but she'll live. What did you find on everyone else?"

"Right now, we still don't know where Kilgrave went. With his injuries, he can't be in good shape and will need medical help, but he's not in _this_ hospital, at least. Clemmons is at the police station telling everyone all about the mechanics of mind control, Jeri is still MIA, and Wil's miscellaneous pieces have all been dumped in various garbage cans around town. I checked, that stuff's not recyclable. We should bring a mop over the the safehouse to get rid of those hard-to-remove stains. So, we can go and cut off the bastard's jaw and get our money, right? Yeah, I know that plot point about the jaw is sounding weirder and weirder as time passes, but we're stuck with it."

Jessica mulled it over. They had the evidence. They had witnesses. They had testimony from the thankfully still-breathing Detective Clemmons. They didn't need Kilgrave alive anymore.

It wasn't as easy a decision as she had expected. Sure, she hated the bastard, but she'd wanted him to rot in jail, not mutilated and handed over to be killed. But that seemed less and less practical. She'd mainly taken Deadpool's deal because she expected someone else who was "special" might be useful to her. Or at least, someone special she didn't really care about. With Trish unconscious, she wasn't exactly feeling inclined towards the lawful route.

She'd figure something out. Later. "We're going back to try and track down Kilgrave. Once we have him, we'll decide what to do with him."

"Okaaaayyy...we should go talk to Clemmons. With a little police help with the search, this might go quicker." 

"No. Let's just get this over with."

 

* * *

 

_Yeesh. This place looks worse than I remembered._

**We really should have brought those cleaning supplies.**

Jessica rushed ahead of Deadpool and looked over the damaged equipment of the safehouse, her usual disinterested expression changing to rampant fury and frustration as she ran to the recording setup, rummaging through the pieces an tossing the broken remains out of her way.

"No, no no nonono NO!"

"Something the matter?"

"Simpson and his fucking bomb blew up the equipment! We lost the evidence!" 

"No we didn't," said Deadpool flatly.

Jessica ran her hands through her disheveled hair, slowly turning to look at him. "What?"

Deadpool walked over to her and held up his iPhone. "I saved backups of everything onto the cloud, just in case. We'll have to reedit everything, which is gonna take forever 'cuz editing sucks, but yeah, we've got it." He touched the screen and played a clip of him stabbing himself in the eyes. "Now _that's_ quality entertainment."

She stared at him, breathing slowing back down to normal as she realized they hadn't lost anything yet, then stepped over the ash-covered floor and hugged him.

**You're welcome.**

_Holy fuck I think she actually likes you._

Deadpool returned the hug, hefting Jessica up and swinging her around, her legs dangling, and her brow increasingly furrowed with anger until she broke out of his hold.

"Jessica, don't worry about a thing. We're winning. And I'm sure your girlfriend will be fine."

"My...girlfriend?"

"Y'know. Trish. The love of your life."

**It couldn't be more obvious. Aren't you a detective or something?**

"Trish isn't my girlfriend. She's my adopted sister."

"...Oh."

**Um, well, they're only adopted sisters, instead of blood relatives, it's not that weird...**

_Eeeeehhhhhhhh, it's pretty weird. Let's not bring this up for a while._

Jessica seemed to be on the same train of thought, ignoring the comment and going back to looking for any salvageable equipment. "It doesn't matter if it'll she'll be fine. She still got hurt because of me."

_Oh, great, she's doing the self-hatred thing again._

**Let me take the wheel. I've got an idea.**

"It's not your fault. If anything, it's my fault."

Jessica looked back and gave him a somewhat annoyed, but confused glare.

"I mean, I was the one who didn't check that Simpson was actually dead or not back at your house. I also should've heard him coming into the building, or at least not let him get the drop on me so he could set off that bomb. Some badass mercenary I turned out to be, huh? I also could've-"

Jessica turned way from him and stormed away down the hall.

_She's mad at you again._

**But now she's not mad at herself.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pretty short chapter, but I wanted to publish something before the end of the month. Hope you enjoy.


	9. Smile, You Son of a Bitch!

"I actually bought and renovated the house she grew up in! How's that for grand romantic gestures, huh?" complained Kilgrave as Wendy sewed up the bullet wound to his shoulder.

"I took Jeri to Paris on our honeymoon. She spent the entire time on the phone...with a client," replied Wendy, methodically tending to his injuries. "And now she's trying to muscle me into this divorce settlement, sending Jessica on errands to dig up dirt on me. She couldn't find anything, of course." She glanced at her ex-wife, who was pacing around nervously. "Don't pretend it's not true, and don't think I didn't know."

"Unbelievable. The nerve," said Kilgrave, turning to question Jeri while the last stitches were put in place. "Why does she hate me, anyway? What did I do to her?" he asked with a level of honest confusion that terrified Jeri.

She had to respond anyway, though in spite of what she figured Kilgrave had done to Jessica, kept it tactful. "She hates what you did to her. She blames you for what's happening to Hope Schlottman."

Kilgrave mulled this over for a brief moment before a thought struck him. "Where's Hope now?"

Hogarth tried not to answer, but the words poured out anyway. "Still in detention. I can give you the address."

"Perfect. Now then, Wendy, sign those divorce papers. Whatever your lovely ex-wife puts in front of you." Kilgrave walked towards the door, still wounded but not in any immediate danger of falling over dead, and turned to Hogarth. "Consider it a thank you for the drive over."

He looked back at the stunned women. "Lovely meeting you."

 

* * *

 

"You know him best, any idea where Kilgrave might have gone? Favorite Mexican restaurant? A safehouse? Escape route? Favorite Mexican restaurant? Friend's place? A tourist attraction he wanted to see? Favorite Mexican restaurant?" asked an increasingly hungry Deadpool.

"He'll need medical attention with the injuries he's racked up. Though he's more resilient than you'd expect from a spindly creep," replied Jessica as she pulled out her ringing phone.

Hogarth.

"Jessica. It's Jeri."

"Fucking finally. Where are you? What happened?"

"Kilgrave got a hold of me, and I took him to Wendy to treat his injuries. He's gone, I'm fine now. We're fine."

Letting them off that easy?

He must have gotten bored.

Or Kilgrave was telling her what to say and this was all leading to a trap.

"Jessica, he's going after Hope."

Shit.

"Why? He doesn't give a damn about her. What did you talk about?"

"I don't know what he's going to do, but he seems to think he can mend things with you through her, somehow."

It certainly sounded like Kilgrave's twisted sense of romance.

"How long ago was this?"

"A few minutes. Jessica, I need-"

Jessica hung up the phone, heading towards the door with Deadpool in tow, not bothering to explain anything since he'd had his head next to hers so he could listen to the phone call.

Kilgrave must have realized Hogarth would contact her, and wanted it to happen, otherwise he would have ordered her to stay quiet. Which means he wants her to come after him.

Deadpool lead Jessica to the back of his crummy rented van, opening the door to reveal a cache of weapons he'd picked up while she was visiting Trish. "We're breakin' into a detention facility, huh? I've got just the tools for the job."

Looking over the pile of blades, bombs, and guns, a baffled Jessica picked up a brick of C4. "Where do you keep getting all these weapons?"

"I have the right to keep and bear arms!" he protested.

"You're wearing a bandolier loaded with grenades."

"Grenades are a kind of armament. Now, when I'm using this stuff in other countries, _then_ it's illegal. Probably. I don't actually check on that." Deadpool sifted through the piles of weapons in the back of his van. "Let's see, I've also got a magnum, a pistol, my two lucky katanas, five combat knives, four grenades, two smoke bombs, and some crayons."

"Crayons aren't weapons..." she said grudgingly, half curious, half knowing that bringing out this fact wasn't going to get her anything except frustration.

"There are the way I use 'em! Trust me. Now hop in, we've got a shithead to hunt!"

Jessica buckled up as Deadpool drove the clunker out into the road, racing to the rescue.

Towards a building on the other side of the city.

During rush hour traffic.

Fuck.

 

* * *

 

After finally getting to their destination, the facility was eerie, none of the usual presence of visitors or inmates. A lone guard at the front desk was the only person in sight, snapping to attention once he saw the two of them come in. "You're Jessica Jones?"

Hesitantly, and with a gut feeling she knew what was happening, Jessica answered. "Yeah..."

The door to the facility unlocked. No pulling out a gun, no breaking his own head against a wall, nothing.

And in a way, that only made it so much more unsettling.

"He's waiting for you inside."

Where's the trap...

As the two of them walked towards the door, all the security personnel were there, waiting in the hall behind the entryway.

Yup. There it is.

"'Just you, Jessica," said the guard. "Your friend will have to wait." 

With some trepidation, Jessica walked past the brainwashed guards. As she reached the edge of the group, she heard a grating voice call after her, accompanied by the sound of metal sliding against leather.

"Now that you're in the clear, this is the part where I take these guys out and help you anyway, right?"

"NO! They're kilgraved, don't hurt them!"

Deadpool sheathed both his swords, getting ready to charge out into the fray without them. "C'mon, it's me! I know how to fight people without killing them."

_"Deadpool!"_

The merc chuckled childishly as he loaded a pair of tranq guns, while the zombie-like guards pulled out their batons. "Don't worry, I don't kill cops. GO! Be with you in just a minute."

 

* * *

 

Jessica could here the sounds of gunshots, impacts on the walls, and the hissing sound of smoke bombs as she ran to the common area to find Kilgrave stuffing his face with some Italian food he must have ordered brought in, Hope at his side.

Smiling at her.

"Jessica! I'm glad you made it so soon. Say, hello, Hope."

"Hello, Hope," blurted out the petrified, sickly-looking teenager.

Kilgrave scolded himself momentarily. "I have _got_ to be more careful about that one."

In spite of how scared she was, Hope mustered. "Jessica, you shouldn't be here."

"He can't control me, Hope." she said, trying to sound reassuring but realizing how ridiculous it must have sounded given everything that had happened. "Hope, we have everything we need. We have evidence. You'll be freed. We can put him in prison!"

Each word only made Hope more and more anguished. "Who the hell cares?! Kill him already!"

Kilgrave wasn't even concerned. "Now, now, Hope, calm down. And get out of here."

Hope processed the command, but was clearly confused by it, stumbling to her feet and carefully stepping away, looking back at Kilgrave for some kind of confirmation.

"I said _go_." He waved her away, looking very relaxed and in control as he looked back at Jessica. "She's free to go. Discharge papers signed. Everyone was all _very_ cooperative."

Not needing to be told to get away from him a third time, Hope ran like hell. Jessica thought about following after her to make sure there wasn't some ambush waiting for her, but couldn't afford to take her eyes off Kilgrave.

"You can't beat me, Kilgrave. We both know you can't control me anymore."

"Well, you've had a lot of help recently, haven't you? Interesting company you're keeping. What do you see in him? Do you think he's more appealing than me? All he has is an enhanced ability to _not die._  Hardly impressive compared to what you and I are capable of."

The door burst open, Deadpool charging in, his suit full of bullet holes, though it was hard to tell how much blood he'd lost thanks to the bright red suit.

"JESSICA! I knocked out everybody without killing them! I ran past that Hope girl she seemed nice have you taken care of Kilgra _shit_ I came in too soon, didn't I?"

God damn it.

"Deadpool, _leave!_ I've got this."

For just a moment, Kilgrave's bullshit gentleman facade broke. "Great. This fucking guy. I thought I told the guards to shoot anyone else who tried to get in here!"

"Go fuck yourself, you limey shithead!" 

"...Well, if at first you don't succeed...Deadpool, is it? Kill Jessica, right now, using all your weapons! I'd love to see what it takes to kill her."

"You're the boss, you limey shithead!"

Jessica felt a jolt of panic, trying to think of what to do in the fraction of a second she had. She wasn't bulletproof, and Deadpool had proven a hell of a shot. Hardly any cover available anyway. She was stronger than he was by a large margin, but he'd obviously had advanced hand-to-hand combat training while she'd always relied on brute force. And if she overpowered him, what could she do? She wasn't even sure how to kill him, or if she could, she _knew_ she didn't want to no matter how annoying he could get, and he could heal from serious injuries in minutes, at the most.

All those thoughts and emotions pathetically died out like a deflating balloon as a crayon hit her in the face at the speed of a light toss.

By this point, Kilgrave couldn't even get angry, only more confused. "Oh, for fuck's sake...What...what are doing?"

"You said to kill her with all my weapons," Deadpool said, still chucking the bits of colored wax at his partner. "So, I'm using _all_ of them. Including these crayons I brought. Which I only have a few of left, so if  _somebody_ wants to get moving before I have to switch to something that's actually dangerous  _she'd better do it quick._ "

Jessica bolted down the hall, still feeling the weak impact of the last few crayons hitting her in the back and dropping to the floor.

Followed immediately after by the sound of a semi-automatic being loaded.

Whatever Deadpool's usual method was for weaseling around Kilgrave's control was, it didn't seem to be doing the trick at the moment.

Jessica ripped the doors of an empty cell off its hinges, using it as a shield against the impact of the bullets. The low caliber rounds were easily blocked.

The magnum, on the other hand, nearly knocked her off her feet, but she was able to remain steady until he ran out of ammo.

And before Deadpool had time to reload, she threw the door at him, knocking the firearm out of his hand and leaving him on the floor.

Kilgrave was loving every second of the spectacle.

"C'mon, Jessica, you're better than this. Take care of him."

Loving to make her miserable.

She dodged the throwing knives, though the last one sliced her tricep as it flew past.

Before Deadpool could bring the swords down onto her, she got a hold of his wrists, stopping the swings-only for a kick to the stomach to send her stumbling back. She lost more and more ground as she dodged the swings, until she was forced to catch the blades, one in each hand, cringing as they cut into her but her abnormally strong bones holding.

Over Deadpool's shoulder, she could see Kiglrave smiling away.

She thought about Kilgrave sitting in a cell. Until he grew old and died, unable to hurt anyone ever again.

It's what she wanted. Or maybe just what Trish told her she wanted.

She'd never get it.

He'd be stuck there for a day. Maybe two.

And then he would say something to someone and eventually it would lead to him getting back out.

The blades dug into her palms, blood running down the metal, until she squeezed so hard the metal shattered.

She pulled her fist back, then lunged forwards, hitting Deadpool with enough force to crush his chest.

It should have been enough to kill him.

Just like it'd killed Reva Connors.

"Smile. It'll be fine," Deadpool said weakly, coughing and wheezing with his crushed lungs, hilts clanging as they hit the floor. He nodded downwards at the grenades he was carrying. All of which had their pins removed. "I did exactly what he said. Last weapons left."

Fuck it. 

Jessica lifted Deadpool and threw him, grenades and all, towards Kilgrave before running back and ducking into the cell with the missing door.

 

* * *

 

Half a minute later, from the floor below, Deadpool looked up through the hole in the ceiling, brainwashed-but-breathing guards and red Kilgrave chunks lying all around him while the wounds from the explosions healed.

**Holy shit, that was awesome!**

_Yeah. You know what would've been more awesome? Taking him alive and getting all the money!!! Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu_

**She's so cool.**

_uuuuUUUUUUCK!_

**Oh, what's the big deal? It was our bad, anyway.**

_Eleven million dollars. We lost eleven million dollars._

**I wanna be just like her when I grow up.**

_Does the MCU have any means of bringing people back to life? Is that a thing? I don't watch Agents of Shield, Coulson's alive, right? How'd they do that? Can we do that?_

**What a kill. BOOM!**

_Had him in her hands..._

**So proud of her.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally finished this chapter. It took me a while to get this done because I was having a hard time coming up with an ending that wasn't just a repeat of the show's, but it turned out pretty well. I'll probably polish it up more later, but I really wanted to publish it.
> 
> Epilogue chapter is next, it'll be the last one. Almost done. Just have to finish one more chapter without people realizing I don't know how to write.


	10. A Little Ajax Will Get That Blood Stain Out

"Do you have him?" asked the client, who had stepped away from another high-stakes card game with his colleagues. Noting the strangely-dressed merc, and conscious of their own contributions to the "Kill Kilgrave" fund, they cautiously approached the pair.

"I do! Unfortunately, I wasn't able to get him alive like I'd hoped," said Deadpool, as he slung large, heavy bag off his shoulder and onto the ground, unzipping it to show the group, who all instantly recoiled at the stench before slowly leaning over to look inside at the burnt, rancid chunks of meat and bone.

"What the hell is this?"

"It's Kilgrave!"

The client nudged the remains away with his foot, leaking a bloody trail as it moved across the ground.

_We really shouldn't have cheaped out on the bag._

"It sure doesn't look like him."

"Well...it's all I could scrape off the floor. And the walls. And the ceiling."

**Good thing the prison kitchen had some quality spatulas.**

"Why is there a stapler in there?!"

"Well, I knew this might not be very convincing, so I tried to piece him back together, but, yeah, it didn't work out." He bent down and reached into the bag, poking at a severed foot poorly stapled to an elbow. "You can keep the stapler if you want."

 _We stole it from the front desk anyway._   

Pulling out a hankerchief to cover his mouth and nose in light of the stench, the client signaled to an assistant who brought Deadpool a discrete-looking suitcase, while obviously trying not to inhale as she approached. "Alright, we have the money, as we'd agreed, five million for him dead. And he is, well, definitely dead...Good work."

"Anytime! Hey, I see you've got a game going on over there," he said, eagerly rubbing his gloved, blood-smeared hands together. "Mind if I join in?"

"Please, get out."

 

* * *

 

It should've made her feel better. Kilgrave was dead. Definitely. She'd seen the...'body', and there was no doubting it this time. But it didn't.

Luke was safe, and thankfully spared involvement in this nightmare.

Trish was still recovering, but she'd be okay.

And Hope was out.

Jessica had considered going through the whole legal process the right way, to disregard Kilgrave's last act of "helping" her. But that would've only been another burden on Hope. The papers were publishing the whole story about what happened. The video of Kilgrave forcing an oddly-dressed man to stab out his own eyes won a lot of believers, as did Clemmens' testimony, and Wendy's, and Hogarth's, and the detention guards. Even then, to make it all go away, Kilgrave's power made everything so much easier.

Even in death, that smug piece of shit still managed to work his way into her skull. Because she gave a damn. 

Jessica sulked as she walked down the hall to her apartment, slammed her broken door closed so hard the wood splintered, and cracked out a beer.

 

* * *

 

Deadpool knocked on the door to Jessica's office. 

Or rather, he _tried_ to knock on the door, but only wound up finally knocking the whole busted thing off its hinges.

After a moment of standing at the entryway, Jessica finally lifted her head off her desk and halfheartedly waved him forward.

"I brought celebration chimichangas!" he said, holding up some take-out which he handed over to Jessica.

The bag was full of several other discarded wrappers. "How many of those have you eaten?"

"Well, thanks to Bloodtomb, I've still got a lot of muscle tissue to regenerate and I need protein. And calories. Now that the big-budget action sequence is over, the law of conservation of mass has decided to stop being lazy and get back to work. I'm skin and bone! Actually, I'm still missing a few square feet of skin." he explained, biting off another chunk.

"That's what usually happens when you trigger grenades that are strapped to your body," replied Jessica.

 **Wait,** **what?**

She thought for a second as she swallowed a mouthful of beef and rice. "Scratch that, what usually happens is you _die_."

_There you go._

"Hey, I don't know where you got the idea to throw me. You were supposed to pull the grenades _off_ and throw _them_."

"Well, I wasn't interested in messing around with all your straps and pouches until my hands blew off," she said bitterly, cautiously taking a bite of chimichanga before eating ravenously, and taking note of the restaurant logo on the bag, Fajita Nate's Tex-Mex Cuisine. 

With, as Deadpool noted, a few beers to wash it all down.

"Did I ever tell you how I got these scars?" he asked. "A few years ago, this British asshole with a ridiculous-sounding alias to cover up his even lamer real name took a few months out of my life, tormenting me because he's a sick bastard. I wasn't the first one, or the last. And eventually, I killed him, with the help of some superhuman pals of mine." He held up his hand, fingers form a gun shape, and 'shot' himself in the forehead. "Any of this sounding familiar? "

Jessica finished off her food before reaching for another drink, because the last thing she wanted to think about right now was how close she might have been to becoming a maniac in a red suit.

"So anyway, after I killed him, I stayed the same. I didn't get better. Not right away, at least. There are good days, but I'm still kinda-" he held one hand horizontally while wobbling it, "-y'know. But, at least then he couldn't do what he did to me to the person I love. Or anybody else. Get it?"

Jessica paused, and set her latest beer down onto her desk. "I never asked: what's your name? Your real name, I mean."

_Well, that's awfully personal._

"Call me Deadpool."

"I mean your regular, civilian name."

"Well, what's your 'hero' name?"

Despite her awareness of him deflecting the question, Jessica indulged the merc. "I don't really go by one, but Trish suggested 'Jewel'."

"Good choice! You really are a... _gem!_ " he said, the flesh of his mouth cracking apart as he gave the biggest, lamest smile he could.

 **Good god that was lame.**  

Jessica struggled to maintain her frown but couldn't hold back a flash of a grin at the utter awfulness of the line. It was a joke worthy of her dad.

**Just tell her. It's not like it's some big secret.**

_She's a private investigator. A GOOD private investigator. Who knows what she could dig up on us? Do you really want her to find that Iron Man/Magneto fanfiction you wrote?_

**Now that you mention, I kinda do. I put my heart and soul into that love scene.**

_NO!_

**Hey, Kamala thought it was good.**

**Tell her!**

"I'm Wade Wilson, and here-" He plopped down a burlap sack with a large dollar sign painted on it. "-is your cut of the job."

_With all that money, she can afford doors beyond the dreams of avarice._

Jessica pulled the bag closer and rummaged through its contents. "How much is in here?"

"Five million dollars. Minus the cost of the sack. Which wasn't cheap."

It was all there. "That's the entire reward."

"I agreed to give you five million dollars if we succeeded, not a particular percentage."

She was not amused. "We'll split it."

But Deadpool pulled back and crossed his arms. "If you try to force me to take that, I swear, I will leave it in your mailbox and vanish. I'm better at disappearing than you are, you can't make me take it. Actually, no, I'll spend it on countless magazine subscriptions which all be sent here. I'll fund that entire dying industry for years to come."

Jessica looked down at all the money for a moment, before glancing back up at her 'partner'. "I have another idea of what to do with it."

 

* * *

 

"Here's your ticket," said Jessica, handing the slip of paper to Hope as they waited for the bus.

"That's it? That's all you've got to say?"

Jessica stared at the young woman, hopelessly trying to think of something, anything, uplifting. "Things are shit, but maybe if you at least try to be less shit, things...won't be...um...things are usually terrible everywhere, but if...no, wait..." 

Dammit, she  _had something for this._

"Wow," came Deadpool's voice behind her, accompanied by slow clapping. "You're really _not_ good at the whole comforting thing."

Hope took a few cautious steps back. "You were there at the same time as Kilgrave. You beat up all the guards!"

Jessica stepped in between them. "Hope, relax, just, _relax_. He's with me."

"Did you tell her about the money?" asked Deadpool.

"What money?" asked Hope, still rather far from relaxed.

Jessica dug through her pockets and handed over some crumpled papers with account and routing numbers, and a debit card. "I've set up a bank account for you. Every month, forty thousand dollars will be deposited."

Hope looked back and forth between the paper and Jessica. "That's. I. What?"

Deadpool nodded knowingly as if she'd managed a coherent question. "I know, that  _is_  a lot of money. That's why you're only getting two million dollars. Jessica's splitting the rest up between the victims in the support group. Minus the cost of Trish's medical bills, and some for herself, at my insistence."

"'Insistence' my ass, you threatened to steal my door."

"I didn't 'threaten' anything. Your old door is gone. I just got back from burning it in a junkyard," he said, as Jessica and Hope looked over his shoulder at a plume of smoke rising in the distance. "It got a little out of control. That's why I only showed up right this second. Contractors are installing the new one now. It looks normal, but it's actually a wood covering concealing solid steel, and a bulletproof glass window. With like, five locks, each one more absurdly durable than the last. Fuckin' Rorschach wouldn't be able to get past all of them."

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Jessica decided to ignore this latest incident and focus on Hope. "What'll you do when you get back home?"

"I'm going to see my little brother, do some research to see if I can enroll in classes again at a new university, and figure out where to go from there," she said, looking despondent. "I don't know what it'll be like back to Omaha. Everyone there thought I was a murderer, I don't know if the news will change anyone's mind, I-I don't know what I'll do..."

Deadpool held out his arms, slowly taking Hope in a bear hug and lifting her a foot off the ground.

"No matter what anyone thinks, no matter what they say, it doesn't matter. Whatever happened, through it all, you're still you," he concluded as he set her down. "Also, you're financially independent now, so there's that. Anybody gives you crap, tell them to fuck off, 'cause you're loaded! No student loan debts if _you_ go back to college!"

The bus pulled into the stop as Hope pondered her new situation, its driver holding back and watching in confusion and fear as the ever-photogenic Deadpool helped the girl with her luggage, while Jessica effortlessly loaded up the heavier boxes one-handed.

Deadpool handed Hope a paper bag with an orange, a milk carton, and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich inside, which the latter hesitantly accepted before getting on, and the three of them waved goodbye.

"That was very kind of you to tell her."

"Thanks. Now if only I could believe it."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy ending all around! Sorry for the wait on this, but I have a thesis to write, so it wound up low on my list of priorities.
> 
> Woo, my first multi-chapter fanfic is done! It took about four months, and is shorter than individual chapters on other fics I've read! Go me! Maybe whenever the second season comes around, I'll write a sequel since the ending of this fic doesn't diverge all that significantly from the show. Probably not, though, we'll see.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
